


Come And Save Me From It

by AsexualArchivist



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bodyguard AU, Canon-typical corruption grossness, Jon is his mage bodyguard, M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, martin is a prince, mild violence, the mildness of the violence may change as the story progresses so watch out for that, they fall in love. Eventually.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-04-08 11:39:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19106347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsexualArchivist/pseuds/AsexualArchivist
Summary: The kingdom of Aranya is at war.Ever since his mother, the queen, fell ill, Martin Blackwood, next in line to the throne, has been in danger.Jonathan Sims is a skilled mage from the Magnus Institute, the highest center for magic in any of the surrounding kingdoms.When Jon agrees to be Martin’s bodyguard, things don’t go... exactly as planned.AKA bodyguard AU!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> @rqdbfc this ones for you guys  
> (But also for me bc I really wanted it)
> 
> Anyway! I’m hype for this it’s gonna be sweet as hell!

“I don’t need a _bodyguard_ , Sasha,” Martin repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“I’ve told you, you’re not talking me out of it,” she replied, crossing her arms. “This is the fourth _time_ , Martin. They’re not going to stop.”

They both stared at the desk between them, at the single piece of paper placed square in the center. Messy cursive was scrawled across the center: “for dearest Prince Martin.” Beside it, sat on the table, was a dead worm. 

“It’s not like- anything _happened_ ,” he muttered, unconvincing.

“This time,” Sasha added pointedly.

“I see your point.”

“All I’m saying,” Sasha continued, “is that you need a little extra protection. That’s all I’m saying. The royal guard just isn’t enough anymore. This slipped through their search! What happens the next time? What if Tim and I aren’t there? This country won’t have a ruler, Martin.”

“I _know_ , Sasha, I just-“ Martin sighed, running a hand through his hair and thoroughly messing it up. That brought him some satisfaction. “Someone watching my every move? Who wants that?”

Sasha gave him a sympathetic look. “I know, Martin. I’m sorry. But- this isn’t about you. It’s about Aranya.”

He knew it wasn’t about him; nothing ever seemed to be. Martin sighed, and put the good of the kingdom back in front of his comfort, like it should be. He had been selfish for as long as he could.

“Alright, fine. Find someone for me.”

Sasha smiled and clapped her hands together. “I’m already on it.”

Martin tried not to look too miserable as Sasha rummaged about in her bag for some papers. “How’s your arm, by the way?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s fine. The cut wasn’t really all that deep. Thank goddess Michael was there, though, or I might have been worm food!” She laughed, but Martin could hear an edge of fear in it. He decided it was best to drop the matter and switched tacts.

“Oh, where’s Tim? Didn’t want to deal with me this morning?” He smirked; Tim had been beside himself with anger when the attack had happened, especially since Martin had just ignored his (very pointed) suggestion for extra security.

Sure enough, Sasha snorted. “I think he’s giving the guards a talking to. It’s not like it’s their fault, not really, but you know how he gets. Got to have someone to blame.”

Martin winced. “I’ll have to talk to them later, then, make sure they don’t all commit treason.”

“Tim too, probably. Oh, he’ll be _so_ pissed that I’m the one who finally got you to agree to this.” She snickered, then gathered up the papers she had pulled out. “Alright, then. I’ve been keeping my eyes on anyone coming out of the Institute lately, and there are a couple strong contenders.”

Martin paused. “The Institute?”

“Yeah, we’ve got enough brute force as it is, what with the guard and all,” Sasha said. “And those Institute types are very good at… seeing things coming. You know, with all their…” She waved her hands around spookily. “...magic eye stuff. Besides, you know Oculus is neutral.”

Martin flipped through the papers he was handed, skimming through the descriptions of mages and wondering just what he had agreed to. A mage? Really? And from the Magnus Institute no less? He’d heard nothing but horror stories from people who had had the misfortune of interacting with those types. Again, Martin tried to force his own feelings to the side. If it helped protect him, it helped protect the kingdom.

“What about him?” Martin asked, landing on a page that interested him. “He seems…”

“Normal? Non-threatening? Yeah, thought you’d like him. He’s hot, too, I hear.” She gave him a nudge and a wink. “Wouldn’t be bad to have someone nice to look at, huh?”

“Sasha…”

“I’m kidding!” She laughed, then grabbed the paper from his hand. “Jonathan Sims…” she muttered. “Guess I’ll send word to the Institute, then. He might even get here by tonight, if I send for him now.” She stopped then, and gave Martin a guilty look. “Or, um. Sooner. Like. In an hour.”

Martin groaned. “Sasha, did you already send for him?”

“... Maaaaaaaaayyyyyybeeeeeeee….”

“Sasha-!”

“Come on, Martin, it’s only because I know you so well. And to be honest, even if you had refused I still would’ve made you get a bodyguard. This time was just…” she shuddered, and lightly touched the bandage encircling her upper arm, “...too close.”

Martin deflated. She was right, of course. She usually was. “Well… good, I suppose. The sooner the better.”

Sasha gave him another sad look. “I really am sorry, though. I promise I did a thorough interview. He’s a good one; he’ll respect your privacy as much as he can. And if you hate him, he doesn’t have to stay, you know. We can always find another.”

Martin nodded, only slightly comforted. “Right. Well, when he gets here, just let me-“

“Martin!” Tim’s voice came from just outside Martin’s room. “Got a surprise for you!”

“That must be him,” Sasha said. “Let him in, Tim. He knows already.”

“Aw. Alright, then.”

Sasha gave Martin a clap on the shoulder and a broad smile. “Good luck!”

Martin took a deep breath as the door opened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a little longer cuz i got sliiiiiigghhhhttllly carried away......  
> content warnings:  
> \- choking (not graphic but just be warned if that's gonna bother you)

Jonathan Sims was not hot.

He was… Martin paused to consider for a moment. Cute? No, his face was far too tight and drawn for that; his eyes looked permanently pinched in concern, and his mouth was trapped in a scowl. Pretty? No, he was too tired looking, with deep purple bags under his exhausted grey eyes. He was small, and hunched, and looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over. 

Jonathan Sims was definitely not attractive.

But he was… interesting. Compelling. Maybe even… awe-inspiring. Martin felt his face flush red at that thought.

And he couldn’t look away.

“Well, Martin, I had a whole bit I was going to do but I guess that’s ruined now,” Tim muttered as he practically shoved Jonathan into the room. “Here’s your new bodyguard, Jonathan Sims.” 

Jonathan stepped forward at the sound of his name, and cleared his throat. “Pleasure to meet you. You must be Prince Blackwood,” he said, his voice cool and crisp. He held out his hand for Martin to shake.

“Oh, uh, yes. Hi. Pleasure,” he echoed, taking Jonathan’s hand in his own. It was soft, and small, but Jonathan’s grip was firm. 

Sasha gave Martin a knowing look, but he sent her a glare right back. He let go of Jonathan’s hand just a second too late to avoid it being awkward.

“I’m sure you’re tired from your journey,” Sasha cut in, stepping forward. “I can show you to your new quarters, and you can get settled in, unpack and all that…” she trailed off, noticing Jonathan’s distinct lack of any luggage other than a small messenger bag. 

Jonathan didn’t seem perturbed. “Right, well… good to meet you, Prince Blackwood. I look forward to working with you.”

“Martin,” Martin blurted. “You can call me Martin.”

Jonathan tilted his head. “Alright… Prince Martin. And you can call me Jon.” He nodded sharply, then turned to follow Sasha. Tim closed the door behind him.

“Goddess, that man’s got a stick up his ass.” Tim laughed. “Melanie’ll have a field day when she meets him. How long d’ya think he has before she stabs him?” He chuckled again. “...Martin? Hello?”

“Oh!” Martin squeaks, shaking his head violently. He had been lost in thought, thinking about Jonathan’s stern face and tired eyes. Something in Martin desperately wanted to smooth those worried features. “Sorry, I… um…”

“Oh, _goddess_ , Martin, don’t tell me…” Tim groaned and flopped down in one of the many comfortable chairs in Martin’s room. “Did you even see him? He looks like a rat, or something.”

“Don’t be mean,” Martin chided. “And don’t go assuming things about my… feelings, either. I was just surprised, is all. Sasha sort of sprung this on me.”

“Uh huh,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. “Sure.” Then he jerked his head towards the clock. “You’ve got a meeting to get to, though, so this interrogation will have to wait ‘til later.”

“Goddess, is that the time?” Martin hurried to the door, sparing Tim a stern glance as he rushed through. “Don’t think this means you’ve won.”

Tim grinned. “Of course not, the way you blushed when he called you Martin did that on it’s own.”

Martin stammered, “I- You- shove off, Tim!”  
He stomped down the twisting stairs to the sound of hearty laughter.

The absolute nerve of that man, assuming all kinds of things about him and Jonathan Sims. His head was in a tizzy by the time he got to the council room. Everyone else was already seated with sober looks on their faces. 

“Glad to see you could join us, Prince Blackwood,” Councilor Fielding said cooly from the head of the table. Martin stammered out an apology before slumping into his seat, face burning.

“Ooh, Martin’s in trouble…” Daisy muttered from her post behind him. Her shining armor reflected the sunlight shining through the windows and glinting into Martin’s eyes. He didn’t bother to tell her off; Basira was already shushing her, though she was giggling slightly too.

Why did his friends not have any respect for him at all? He was a _prince,_ for goddess’s sake. Martin glowered at Basira while she pretended not to notice, scribbling down notes in her journal.

Fielding droned on and on about boring political jargon. Martin tried to listen, he really did, but his attention started to waver and his mind wandered back to Jonathan Sims. That exhausted, scowling… interesting man. As the rest of the council talked about budgets and deadlines and a million other things he would soon be completely in charge of, Martin wondered what hid behind that man’s dour features. 

Ah, well. He wasn’t king just yet; he might as well enjoy that while it lasted. Basira was dutifully jotting down notes, so he could just ask her later.

Then the talk of the war started, and Martin’s daydreams shattered.

“Spies from Incognita were spotted at our borders again,” someone was saying. “We aren’t sure yet if they were returning to their home country or just now approaching, but the implications are the same either way. I had hoped we could have gotten them to see reason, but I suppose not…”

“Should we double our border patrol?” a voice asked.

“With what troops?”

“And leave our eastern border unprotected? Maladai has already declared war on us, they’ve sent assassins into our country-”  
“We can’t go on like this-!”

Soon the council members were shouting, frantic and desperate, just like they did at the end of every council. Martin put his head in his hands and sighed, leaning into Basira as she patted him on the shoulder.

“Enough!” He shouted, voice cracking only slightly. He cleared his throat, face burning. “Where are we most vulnerable now?”

Muttering. “... the east?” A small voice replied.

“Okay, then. And the Incognita spies… did they hurt anyone? Are any civilians in danger?”

More muttering. “No, not yet, at least.”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Martin sighed, sliding down further in his chair. “We’re spread thin enough as it is; if we move any troops from the east we risk not only the lives of the citizens there, but also the farmlands. We just can’t risk our resources, unless we want to starve through the winter. If Incognita wants to fight us, well,” Martin laughed bitterly, “they can get in line.”

The room fell silent. Then people were nodding, muttering their apologies for their previous outbursts, and collecting their things. Apparently, the meeting was adjourned. For now.

“Nice leadership, Martin,” Basira muttered. “You’re getting better.”

From anyone else, Martin would have taken the comment as an insult, but the way Basira said it was genuine and kind, just like everything she said. Then she looked at him with sad, pitying eyes. Anger and gratitude warred in his chest, but eventually the gratitude won out. 

“Thank you. I just… don’t think I’m ready for this.” Martin stayed in his seat, head in hands. “Not mention the fact that I’ll probably be assassinated before my mother can get the chance…”

“I won’t let that happen,” said Daisy. There was no hesitation in her voice, only fierce determination. It put Martin’s mind at ease, just a little.

“And you’ve got Oculus on our side, I hear,” Basira said. “Some sort of protection from the Institute.”

“Goddess, news travels fast in this place…”

“I’m just saying, maybe it’ll be harder for Prentiss’s weird mages to get in here now. With their worms, and rot, and disease…” Basira shuddered, and rubbed her arm subconsciously where she had been touched by one of the mages. She had been lucky not to lose the arm, Martin remembered, and shuddered as well.

“Well, I hope you’re right. If I’m gonna be watched every second of every day, it better be for a goddess-damned reason.”

“Isn’t that my job already?” Daisy asked with a grin. “Do I have to fight this guy for your heart, or whatever it is they do in old stories?”

Martin snorted. “Daisy, don’t even pretend to be straight, it’s painful.”

She laughed and hooked an arm around Basira’s shoulder. Basira staggered under the weight of Daisy’s armor, then gave her girlfriend a look equal parts irritation and infatuation.

“Well, we’ve got a full day today, so better go get that mage of yours,” Basira said, leaning into Daisy’s touch.

“Today? Like- right now?” Martin fumbled over his words, but he wasn’t exactly sure why.

“I mean… yeah. That’s why he’s here.” Daisy looked at him quizzically.

“Oh! I just didn’t think he’d start until… tomorrow, maybe, wait until he got settled in, and all that…”

Basira gave him a flat look. “An assassin doesn’t wait for people to get ‘settled in,’ you know.”

“Well, when you put it like _that_ it sounds stupid…”

“Come on, then, let’s go get him,” Daisy trudged ahead with her hand in Basira’s, armor clanging loudly.

Soon they reached Jon’s door, and Martin noticed for the first time just how close it was to his own. There was only one wall separating them, he realized, though he didn’t exactly know what do do with that information, or why his heart thumped a little harder at the thought. 

Daisy rapped her knuckles on the door loudly, and then, not waiting for an answer, barged into Jon’s room.

“Daisy! You can’t just-”

Then he saw Jon, sitting at the desk, so deeply engrossed in a book that he didn’t even notice them come in. His brow was furrowed even deeper than it had been before, and he scribbled down some notes in a journal as he read. As they walked inside, Martin could hear Jon muttering to himself, something about spells or seeing or knowing, he couldn’t really make it out.

“Jon?”

“Shit!” Jon shouted, flailing his arm wildly and knocking over his inkwell. “...Ah. Hello, Prince Martin.”

“Just Martin is fine.”

“So, Prince Martin,” Jon continued, ignoring the ink dripping from his desk, “I assume I am supposed to begin my duties at once?”

“... Yes…” Martin answered. “Aren’t you going to…”

Jon gave him a puzzled look, than glanced back towards his desk. “Oh, right.” With a wave of his hand, the ink coalesced into a spinning orb in the air, and deposited itself back into the inkwell. Martin tried not let his amazement show.

“Are those the kinda skills you’re bringing to the table to protect the prince?” Daisy looked at him with a smirk.

“Just a parlor trick, really, one I picked up when I was younger,” Jon replied in a clipped tone. Oh, so Daisy had struck a nerve, there. Now Martin struggled to hide his amusement.

“Alright, then. Prove it.” Daisy gave Martin a conspiratorial look, like she was saying _let’s haze the new guy, eh?_ Jon rolled his eyes, then straightened up and looked Daisy square in the eyes. He closed his own briefly, then opened them again; instead of their previous stormy grey color, they were completely pitch black.

“ _Daisy Tonner,_ ” he said in a voice not his own, “ _royal guard to Prince Martin Blackwood since you could first hold a sword. Your mother and father before you served the queen, and died in the line of duty. You swore to follow in their footsteps, to continue what they started, but sometimes worry that you’ll lose yourself in the thrill of the fight, in the euphoria that taking down the evil can bring. You worry it will not be enough to hurt those deserving. You are wrong, though; your heart is too soft for that, though you won’t ever admit it. Not even to Basira, even though you love her dearly. You love her so dearly it outweighs the joy of wielding a blade. Do not worry, Daisy Tonner; she loves you as well._ ”

Jon blinked again and his eyes were back to normal. He swayed dangerously before stumbling to hold himself up on the chair.

“There,” he panted, clearly exhausted. “Satisfied?”

Martin looked at him with terror and with wonder in equal measures.

Daisy, however, looked at him with hatred.

“How- how _dare_ you,” she sputtered, stomping over to the man and grabbing him by the throat. “How dare you reach around inside my head, pull out my memories-” she squeezed, and Jon made a terrible choking sound. “Don’t you _ever_ pull that shit with me again. Understood?”

Jon nodded frantically, then Daisy dropped him to floor in a heap. He gasped for breath as she stormed out of the room.

Basira and Martin shared an uneasy glance as Jon coughed from his place on the floor.

“I’ll go calm her down,” Basira sighed, then looked at Jon. “You had better watch yourself, Sims, or else you’ll be the one getting assassinated. And I don’t intend to stop her.” And she marched out of the room after Daisy.

“Well-” Jon rasped, “seems I’ve already made an enemy.”

“Two,” Martin corrected. “No one messes with Daisy and escapes Basira’s wrath.”

“Oh. Great.” He sighed, and struggled to his feet. “We still have work to do, I suppose. Nothing for it.”

“Are you alright? You did almost get choked to death.”

“I’m fine,” he croaked, and chuckled. “It hurts to talk, but maybe now I won’t put my foot in my mouth again.”

“More like the whole leg,” Martin mumbled, and was surprised to hear Jon laugh sharply.

“Right. So…” Jon said, walking towards the door. “Shall we?”

Martin tried not to let worry churn in his stomach as his new bodyguard led him out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the morning passed rather uneventfully. Martin was shuffled about, talking to different dignitaries and representatives, both from the townsfolk and from the surrounding countries. Some were vaguely familiar and some he had never seen before, but he gave them all the same treatment; he smiled at all of them, listened politely to their words, offered solutions where he could and condolences where he couldn’t. Most of the morning passed in a blur, until Martin startled at a hand clapping down on his shoulder. 

“You alright, mate?” Tim asked, and Martin relaxed, slumping into him.

“Goddess, it just doesn’t end, does it?” He laughed tiredly, and Tim gave him a sympathetic look. He didn’t bother to bring up the fact that Martin himself insisted on seeing most of the people who came to the palace, and for that he was grateful.

“Well, you’ve got a bit of a break for lunch, now, anyway.” He nudged Martin conspiratorially. “Melanie said she’d sneak us some of that bread you like if we meet her in the garden.”

“Ah, it’s been awhile since we’ve had a proper picnic, and it’s so nice outside…” Martin mused. Tim grinned and hauled him up from where he was sitting, wincing as Martin’s spine cracked loudly.

“Alright, alright,” Martin laughed, stretching. Then something occurred to him. “Oh- should I grab Jon?”

His new bodyguard had been posted up outside, supposedly looking over the various characters as they approached Martin with their needs. Since that morning, the prince hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him, though; he supposed that was a good thing, since it meant that no assassins had tried to approach him. Or that Jon simply didn’t notice them, his mind reminded him unhelpfully.

Tim made a face. “Do you _have_ to?”

Martin spluttered indignantly. “Now, you and Sasha were the ones who were pushing me to get some ‘extra protection’-“

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Tim groaned. “But- goddess, Sims is just insufferable, isn’t he?”

Martin thought about Jon’s sharp, severe features, and his dry laugh, and tried not to blush too visibly. “I- I haven’t spoken to him much, to be honest.” He shrugged in a way he hoped came across as nonchalant.

Tim rolled his eyes. “He’s a prick,” he muttered, then sighed. “But a prick who’s got one of the best reputations on the continent for magical abilities. Better bring him along, make him earn his keep. As long as he doesn’t try to pull that shit he did with Daisy again.”

Martin got the strange impression that he was being humored. He shook it off, though, and gave Tim a smile.

“How did you know about that?” He asked.

“Well… Daisy might’ve said something to me as she stormed past.” Tim said as they moved to the door. “Seems like a dick move, huh?”

“To be fair, Daisy _was_ being… Daisy.” Martin wasn’t sure why he was trying to defend Jon; it had been a terrible thing to do, reaching into Daisy’s mind like that and spilling out her secrets for all to see. But it almost seemed like something had taken over his body, like he wasn’t even Jonathan in that moment, but some vast and unknowable being. It shook Martin to his core just as much as it fascinated him.

“Still,” said Tim, opening the door. “What kind of idiot looks at a woman like _that_ and decides he wants to fuck with her?”

Martin laughed. “I can’t believe he already managed to piss off the most dangerous person in this palace. Must be a record.”

They were in the corridor now, and Jon was leaning up against the wall right next to them, looking both bored and uncomfortable. He straightened upon Martin’s approach, and gave a slight nod. A faint purple bruise was beginning to stand out on his neck. 

“Come on, we’ve got a bit of a lunch break,” Martin said with a smile. Jon nodded, but shifted on his feet, hesitating. 

“Ah- should I… make my own arrangements for meals? Y- your highness?” He asked. Martin tried not to flush at the title, then shook his head in confusion. Goddess, what was _wrong_ with him?

“Aren’t you the bodyguard?” Tim snorted, not bothering to stop as Jon dithered. “It’s your job to stay with the prince. Martin’s not going to let you starve, he’s too noble or whatever for that.”

“Of- of course,” Jon muttered. It may have been the way the sunlight hit his face, but it looked like his face was red too. “Apologies.” He nodded to Martin and took up a position behind him. 

The walk to the gardens was supremely awkward. Jon shuffled quietly behind Martin as Tim rambled on about one of his many unfortunate sexual escapades. Martin could tell he was doing it just to make Jon uncomfortable, and it seemed to be working. A quick glance back showed that Jon’s face, despite being carefully schooled into a neutral expression, was slowly turning red. Martin hid his smile as Tim led the way to the gardens.

“And that’s why I’m not allowed in the east side of the palace anymore. Oh, and I’m also wanted in the country of Esmentiras, but that’s unrelated. For the most part. Oh, there’s Melanie!”

Jon gave a barely audible sigh of relief as Melanie waved lazily towards them. She was sitting under a tree, hand in hand with Helen, and Martin swore under his breath; he had bet on at least another week before either of them made a move. Sasha was spot on again. Tim noticed as well, and gave a good-natured laugh as he shrugged.

Sasha, Basira, and Daisy were all there, too, chatting quietly as Tim and Martin settled down next to them. Jon stood off to the side, looking guilty and uncomfortable. Martin was beginning to suspect that he usually looked uncomfortable.

“You can sit down, Jon. I don’t mind,” Martin said, patting the spot next to him.

“I’m- fine.” Jon didn’t look at him as he spoke, just cast his eyes across the garden, seeming troubled. 

Tim laughed. “Daisy’ll probably kick his ass if he gets any closer.” The fire in Daisy’s eyes confirmed Tim’s assumption. Jon didn’t notice, apparently, still scanning for threats on the horizon, or at least pretending to. Martin tried to ignore his own uneasiness; so far, he hadn’t seen this level of vigilance from him.

“So, Melanie…” Martin started, with a pointed look towards her and Helen’s hands.

Helen was the new gardener, hired before the third worm attack. Melanie had instantly become smitten with her, and from what Michael said, so had Helen, and thus a betting pool had formed among most of the staff to predict when they would finally get together. They needed a little levity, Martin figured, and he knew Melanie well enough to know she wouldn’t mind. The palace had been tense lately, and any distraction from the ever-present threat of Maladai assassins on their doorstep. 

“Sorry, Marty, Sasha’s already told me everything,” Melanie laughed. “Too bad!”

Helen giggled as Martin spluttered. “ _Marty?!_ ” Melanie just smirked at him.

“Sasha’s the only one of you who really _gets_ me,” she continued over Helen’s laughter. “Honestly, if she hadn’t played matchmaker none of you would have even been able to bet on our relationship. She deserves it more than any of you.”

“Yep!” Sasha beamed, holding out her hand smugly towards Tim and Martin. “Pay up, fuckers!”

Grumbling, Martin counted out the money. Tim did the same, making some grandiose speech about how Sasha had planned this from the start. She winked at him as she pocketed the coins.

“So, yes, Melanie and I are dating now,” Helen said, smiling pleasantly. “I bring her flowers and she brings me sweets; it’s really a very effective system.” 

Martin, despite his earlier protests, was quite happy for the two of them. Melanie had been having a tough time of it lately; her father had fallen ill not too long ago, and she was struggling to take care of him while also upholding her duties. She deserved this, and he couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips as he saw the two of them exchanging meaningful glances when they thought no one was looking. Melanie looked happier than he had seen her in weeks.

The food Melanie brought was delicious. She liked to experiment a little whenever they had picnics like this, and sometimes the dishes she served them were… weird. Martin was always excited to try her new concoctions, though. And she always made such good bread, too.

Helen still giggling slightly, turned towards Basira and Daisy. “So, Basira, I’ve been meaning to ask-“

“Prince Martin,” came a quiet voice from behind him, and Martin nearly jumped out of his skin. Jon was standing there, brow creased.

“Hmm? What is it, Jon?” Martin tried to push down the dread building in his chest. It was then he noticed that Jon’s eyes were glowing solid white.

“I think we should go inside,” he muttered. His voice echoed strangely. Suddenly, Martin felt eyes on him- eyes everywhere, watching- protecting? Was that- was that Jon?

“Inside,” Martin found himself saying. “Something is- Jon- inside.”

“What’s wrong?” Daisy sprung to her feet and grabbed her sword.

“Prentiss,” Jon said. His voice still had that supernatural quality to it, like it was layered over itself several times, and his eyes were still glowing. He didn’t seem to be looking at any of them as he lifted a hand and pointed behind them.

There, for the first time, Martin caught a glimpse of the woman who used to be Jane Prentiss, Queen of Maladai. 

She had been a benevolent ruler, the stories said, kind and just. Strange, of course; the royal family had been for generations. But Queen Jane would stop at nothing to protect her people, her “hive.” That’s what mattered to the people. She loved them, and protected them, and she would personally see to the destruction of any threat on their doorstep.

Research into biological warfare had been her idea. The mages in Maladai pushed their experiments further and further, breaking the bounds of known magic in ways that would horrify the general public, had they known about them. 

And then something- went wrong.

Queen Prentiss wasn’t technically supposed to be present at the experiments. There had been several accidents that resulted in- not quite “deaths”, but something perhaps even more unpleasant that no one was willing to discuss. Prentiss liked looking in, though. She found the worms and the decay and the filth strangely beautiful, as if they were calling to her.

No one knows what exactly happened that day, not even Jane herself. But soon, she was full where she once was empty, and sweet music was inside her bones always.

She wasn’t- truly human, anymore. Her orders grew stranger and crueler, warped and confused as she morphed into something other. She declared war on all surrounding countries, attacking with her corruption and filth and waste. Jane Prentiss wanted nothing, anymore, but for her hive to flourish.

And now she was here. In front of Martin. Grinning. Hoping to use his web for her own desires, trying to steal his people from his grasp.

Martin stumbled backwards, the flood of information abruptly closing off. Jon looked at him, panicked, and for one second his eyes were normal. Then he stared at Prentiss, and the glow in his eyes returned, now sickly grey and pale.

“ _Go,_ ” he said, not taking his eyes off of the being that used to be a queen. She seemed to be frozen in place, rooted to the spot by Jon’s gaze staring into her very being.

The others were running for the door already. Daisy stood next to him, sword at the ready, anger and fear in her eyes. 

“Jon!” Martin shouted as he scrambled towards the palace doors. “Come on!”

Jon, startled, turned around to look at him, eyes wide and human once again. This time they didn’t change back, as Jane rammed into him at full force. He screamed as the worms dug into him. Daisy took this as an opportunity to charge forward, hacking at Prentiss and crushing worms beneath her feet as she went.

Martin rushed over to Jon, who was stumbling to his feet. “Can you walk?”

“B-barely,” Jon panted. His face was gleaming with sweat. “Can’t- can’t make it back inside.”

Martin snatched his arm, ignoring his grunt of pain as he dragged Jon behind him, running in the opposite direction of the palace. Jon’s breath came in stuttering gasps.

“Uh, I think- there!” He shouted as a small garden shed came into view. “Here, get in, we’ll be safe, hopefully.”

Jon collapsed as soon as they got inside, heaving for breath. He looked at Martin with tired eyes.

“Y-you need to get the worms out.”

Martin felt the blood drain from his face. “I- I can’t-“

“Shears,” Jon groaned. “Over there. Hurry, please, I don’t want to become infested.”

Martin rushed over to wear Jon had indicated and snatched up the shears. He felt his hands tremble as he looked over Jon’s body, pale and shaking.

“I’ll tell you where,” Jon said. He sounded resigned, not terrified, and that shocked Martin almost more than Prentiss herself. Just what had this man seen?

Jon indicated where the worms were under his skin. Martin tried not to be sick as he positioned the shears and sliced through the skin, wincing at Jon’s pained gasps and occasional screams. 

It took far too long, but eventually it was over. Both Jon and Martin were shaking, now. Martin had bandaged up his cuts as best he could, but Jon had lost a lot of blood, enough to make Martin worried. He was laying on the floor, eyes closed and breath ragged but regular.

“Do you think she’s still out there?” Martin asked. Jon didn’t open his eyes, but sighed, deep and tired.

“Yes. She’s out there.”

“How did she even get in?” Martin wondered aloud.

“I’ll have to… have to check on that,” Jon muttered. “Keep an eye on your staff.”

Martin bristled. “Are you suggesting that one of my-“

“Martin.”

Martin blinked. It was the first time Jon had referred to him by his first name only. For some reason, he didn’t really mind. “Yes?”

“Shut up, please.”

He scoffed, but didn’t reply.

“As I was saying…” Jon continued, sounding very confident for a man who was almost infested by worms a few moments ago. “I’ll need to keep an eye on your staft after this. And we’ll need to have a chat, of course, about my… abilities. But first, to take care of Jane.”

“And how do you intend to take care of Jane, then?” Martin asked. He was starting to sound petulant, but he didn’t really care. If Jon was going to insult his staff, he was going to take their side.

“Got a plan.”

“Oh you do, don’t you?”

Jon struggled into a sitting position. “Yes.” Then he started making as if to stand, and Martin’s annoyance faded into the background.

“Jon, you were hurt pretty badly, you shouldn’t-“

“I heal fast,” he claimed, though as he got to his feet he still looked like he was about three steps from falling over. “Now, look over to your right.”

He did so; suddenly Martin’s mind sparked in understanding.

“Oh! Insecticide!”

Jon nodded, wincing as the movement apparently pulled at his wounds. “I think that will do, don’t you?”

Martin nodded and grabbed as many containers as he could carry. He tossed a few to Jon, who clutched them with white knuckled hands. 

As they made their way to the door, Martin tried his hardest to think of a good one liner about worms or bugs. He couldn’t think of one before Jon opened the door, so instead he said, “Well. Let’s go kill some pests, shall we?”

Jon gave him a funny look as he hobbled out of the door in front of him. Martin pushed down his fear of Prentiss and followed, holding desperately onto the insecticide in the vain hope that it would save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a Hot Minute but I hope y’all enjoy this.... I’m excited to get into the fluffy jm stuff but for now have some Helenie and worms!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I’m over at [asexualarchivist](%E2%80%9Casexualarchivist.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) if you have any questions or if you just wanna yell abt jonmartin (or a whole slew of other podcasts actually)


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